


Love and Hate

by sherloe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Love, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 10:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherloe/pseuds/sherloe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He pulls the sad face down to his own and gently presses their lips together, mixing hate and love and comfort and distrust and peace and chaos together in something only they are capable of feeling. Something only they are capable of feeling together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Hate

**Author's Note:**

> I based this fic off of a song by The Avett Brothers called The Ballad of Love and Hate, and the idea for writing this has been swimming around in my mind for a couple of months now so I finally grew some and wrote it. By the way, it's a great song, (and band) so you should look it up. Enjoy! :) 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing! Sherlock Holmes and John Watson belong to Moftiss and Sir ACD and some of the lines belong to The Avett Brothers.

The letter wasn't long. It simply stated that he would be away a few days more, that the ocean was beautiful, and of course it included the painfully typical "wish you were, can't wait to see you". He signed it "-J" as he knew the recipient of the letter was not one for sentiment. 

He smiled a little at the name and address that the envelope proudly boasted as he slipped the folded piece of paper into its home and set it aside to mail later that evening.

***

It took three days for the letter to arrive at its destination. The man to whom it was delivered held it delicately in his long, graceful fingers, knowing full well what it said without having to open it at all. He tossed it carelessly into the vast pile of other ignored letters that had failed to catch his attention.

Sentiment. How he hated it.

He barely even noticed the other man was away. He didn't care.  
He picked up his worn violin and shot a cold "whatever" to the skull that sat intently on the mantle.

***

Quiet notes traveled from the doctor's mouth to his ears as he hummed. He sat comfortably beside the window in the airplane that flew silently over the vast ocean which would eventually lead to home. The ocean looked so blue through his pretty, utopian eyes and he was oblivious to the fact that everyone, no matter where he was, looked at him and knew. They knew he was happy to be going home to someone who couldn't care less.

***

He is a tall, dark figure that catches most everyone's eye when he walks through the streets. He is risk and danger and indifference to whatever risk and danger could lead to. He keeps his head up proudly, greeting the strangers, drifters, and shaking hands with the loners. His face stays hard and serious. Nothing. He feels nothing.

***

His walk is combination of army discipline and casual determination. He drags his baggage behind him. One full of his personal belongings, the other full of the good things we know. He has reason to live.  
He has reason to grow.  
He has reason to trust, to hope, and to care. And he was going home to that reason.

***

He sends a menacing glance to the moon and the stars surrounding. Pointless things.

  
_"How can you not know that the earth goes around the sun?"_  
 _"All that matters is the work!"_

_"Beautiful, isn't it?"_  
 _"I thought you didn't care--"_  
 _"Doesn't mean I can't appreciate it."_

He doesn't appreciate it now, though, as he takes a burning sip of the strongest thing he could find in the darkened flat. He hurls the glass against the wall, half expecting the spray painted smiley face to flinch. 

It doesn't. 

He grabs his coat and leaves.

***

He gets in a taxi at random, sending a kind word to the driver. A young man looks at him through the rearview mirror and his youthful eyes fill with hope. Why? We can only assume it is because the doctor carries hope with him and shares it with everyone he comes in contact with. He is hope. He is love. 

He overtips the driver, exits the car, and eagerly walks up to the door of his flat.

He doesn't see the driver crying as he pulls away. After all, hope leaves everyone. Sometimes for only a little while, sometimes forever.

***

He stumbles through the dark and makes it into the flat, lucky to be home alive. He doesn't care. He glances at the clock in the kitchen. 2:55 in the morning. He remembers that the clock in the kitchen is slow.

***

He smiles through the dark when he hears the door open. He's been waiting patiently for a phone call or some kind of sign, anything, really, to let him know that he was safe, the one that he cares for, who's out of his mind, has made it back to him.

***

He stumbles forward, now aware that the doctor was home. He leans against the door jam. He hangs his head, casting his eyes to the floor.

"John, I'm sorry."

Bright eyes smile back at him.

"What for, Sherlock?"

He walks over to his mad detective. His risk. His danger. His indifference. He wraps him in a warm embrace. He buries his face into the taller man's neck.

"I'm yours and that's it. Whatever."

He pulls back as he feels hot tears dripping onto his neck. He regrets being away for so long. He pulls the sad face down to his own and gently presses their lips together, mixing hate and love and comfort and distrust and peace and chaos together in something only they are capable of feeling. Something only they are capable of feeling _together_. He pulls back, wiping tears from sharp cheekbones.

"Sherlock."

Sharp eyes look into his own soft ones.

"John."

He smiles at the sound of his name coming from the only person it sounded right coming from.

"I'm yours and that's it. Forever." He kisses Hate's hands.

"You're mine and that's it. Forever."

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics for The Ballad of Love and Hate by The Avett Brothers:
> 
> Love writes a letter and sends it to hate.  
> My vacations ending. I'm coming home late.  
> The weather was fine and the ocean was great  
> and I can't wait to see you again. 
> 
> Hate reads the letter and throws it away.  
> "No one here cares if you go or you stay.  
> I barely even noticed that you were away.  
> I'll see you or I won't, whatever."
> 
> Love sings a song as she sails through the sky.  
> The water looks bluer through her pretty eyes.  
> And everyone knows it whenever she flies,  
> and also when she comes down.
> 
> Hate keeps his head up and walks through the street.  
> Every stranger and drifter he greets.  
> And shakes hands with every loner he meets  
> With a serious look on his face.
> 
> Love arrives safely with suitcase in tow.  
> Carrying with her the good things we know.  
> A reason to live and a reason to grow.  
> To trust. To hope. To care.
> 
> Hate sits alone on the hood of his car.  
> Without much regard to the moon or the stars.  
> Lazily killing the last of a jar  
> Of the strongest stuff you can drink.
> 
> Love takes a taxi, a young man drives.  
> As soon as he sees her, hope fills his eyes.  
> But tears follow after, at the end of the ride,  
> Cause he might never see her again.
> 
> Hate gets home lucky to still be alive.  
> He screams o'er the sidewalk and into the drive.  
> The clock in the kitchen says 2:55,  
> And the clock in the kitchen is slow.
> 
> Love has been waiting, patient and kind.  
> Just wanting a phone call or some kind of sign,  
> That the one that she cares for, who's out of his mind,  
> Will make it back safe to her arms.
> 
> Hate stumbles forward and leans in the door.  
> Weary head hung, eyes to the floor.  
> He says "Love, I'm sorry", and she says, "What for?  
> I'm your and that's it, Whatever.  
> I should not have been gone for so long.  
> I'm your's and that's it, forever."
> 
> You're mine and that's it, forever.


End file.
